Catastrophe and Cacophany
by VoldemortIsGoingDown
Summary: "I beg your pardon?" cried Georgiana, following him as he moved towards the door, dragging his trunk. "But- Mr. Wickham- Gretna Green-"   "Is no longer any concern of mine," Wickham said harshly. "Good day."


_**Author's Note:**__ Hello! This is my first story outside Harry Potter, so I'm quite excited. This was actually for a creative writing assignment for my English class (I went about four pages over the required length, hehe) and I'm so excited about it I wanted to share it. Enjoy, and reviews would be greatly appreciated_ :)

The small vessels resting on the blue-gray waters of the English Channel rocked gently in a breeze which did little to stir the oppressively humid summer air hovering above Ramsgate. The early morning sky was pink as the first rays of sunlight illuminated the long blond hair of the young woman sitting by the water, her white nightdress and the light crowning her hair rendering her almost angelic in appearance.

Georgiana Darcy felt anything but angelic as she hugged her knees to her chest, staring out over the waves and contemplating her plan to achieve her happiness- a plan that would ultimately lead to the betrayal and estrangement of the person whose opinion she valued most. It was the unfortunate circumstance that her brother would not approve of her partiality whatsoever, and she dreaded what he would say when he learned of her disreputable actions. She found herself unable to envision any other possible alternative, however. Fitzwilliam would never consent to her marriage with Mr. Wickham, as, for reasons unknown to herself, her brother no longer respected the character of his childhood friend, and she simply could not bear to consider having to part with Mr. Wickham. He had been a constant presence throughout her life, and ever since he had come to visit her at Ramsgate, she had discovered her regard for him growing.

When, only three days before, Mr. Wickham had declared himself in love with her, Georgiana had been overcome with delight. He was partial to her as well! It was of no concern to her that he was only a steward's son, that he had no fortune with which to support her. She had an inheritance of such substantial amount that whether or not her husband was wealthy made no difference. She loved George Wickham, and she was resolved to be his wife- even if the only way to accomplish it was to run away to Gretna Green, Scotland.

Elopement, she knew, might perhaps destroy her character forever, as well as that of her brother. This could not be avoided, however, if she and Mr. Wickham were to be united, and she was of the mind that, in cases of true, passionate love, some rules imposed by society must be ignored. It was her most sincere desire that she avoid public exposure until the marriage had already occurred, in which case her dear brother might take pity on his sister and, in efforts to ensure her obvious happiness, take some considerable pains to disguise the offense she would have committed.

As the sun beat down more insistently on her her exposed skin, Georgiana gracefully rose to her feet and strode across the hot sand towards Wellington Crescent, hopeful that she will be greeted by a warm breakfast on her return to Wellington House.

Upon her arrival at Wellington, it was not just breakfast that greeted Georgiana. Mrs. Younge informed her as soon she stepped through the large oak doors of the house, with much wringing of her hands and nervous glances over her shoulder, that they had received an unexpected visitor. Startled, Georgiana moved past her into the dining room, where the visitor was sitting comfortably at the head of the table.

"Fitzwilliam!" Georgiana's shock was so incredible that she stood immobile in the doorway, her eyes locked on her brother. Panic rose in her throat; this unannounced visit might put an end to everything. She and Mr. Wickham were meant to depart in the early hours of the next day, yet they could understandably not travel to Gretna Green while her brother, who would not approve of their elopement, was staying with her. Her stomach churning with nerves, she made a mental note to ask Mrs. Younge to deliver a message to Mr. Wickham.

"Georgiana? Are you quite well?"

Her brother's voice made her suddenly aware that she had not stirred for several minutes and was still gaping at him soundlessly. Gathering her thoughts, Georgiana allows a genuine smile to grace her features as she joins Fitzwilliam at the table.

"Yes, I am well. Forgive me, I was simply unprepared for your visit!"

She certainly _was_ unprepared. She was well aware that her manner made her discomfort and nerves quite plain, but she seemed incapable of altering her behavior to ease her brother's inquiries as to whether she was, truly, well. Breakfast was a wretched affair, as the longer Georgiana spent in Fitzwilliam's company, the more guilt she harbored for her planned offense. She loved her brother dearly, and she held his regard in the highest esteem- it pained her to think that in no time at all she would knowingly be betraying his trust and sneaking off with a person whose character he so heartily disapproved of. She was quite certain that Fitzwilliam had misjudged Mr. Wickham's character, but her brother was stubborn; "[his] good opinion once lost [was] lost forever" (39).

The knowledge that _she_ could very easily lose his good opinion in less than a day disquieted her; she began to feel ill, and pressed the palm of her hand to her chest in an attempt to steady the pounding of her own heart.

"Georgiana? Are you sure you are feeling well?" Fitzwilliam had risen from his chair and was now bent over her, peering at her face, the complexion of which had now adopted a faint gray tinge rather than the healthy, fair glow it normally possessed. "Shall I send for a doctor?"

"No, no," came the faint reply, as Georgiana lowered her shaking hands to her lap and gazed up at her brother. "I'll be alright in just a moment; I fear I ate something with which I did not agree."

Though still very concerned over the health of his sister, Fitzwilliam returned to his chair and polished off the rest of his meal. He endeavored to engage Georgiana in conversation, but his attempts were futile; she gave short responses that did not encourage continuation on any of the subjects with which he used to draw her out of her stupor.

"I long for the day when you return to Pemberley, Georgiana," Fitzwilliam said at last. "I know I do not often occupy the house, but when I do I long for your company."

At this kind proclamation, Georgiana lost any semblance of composure she had maintained and burst into tears.

"Georgiana!" Fitzwilliam hurried to her side knelt beside her chair. "What ever is the matter?"

"Oh, Fitzwilliam," she whispered, as she sobbed into a handkerchief, "I unable to deceive you. I must bring to your attention an occasion that is a source of much happiness for me, yet I am sure will be cause for grief for you."

Fitzwilliam moved closer to Georgiana's chair and took his sister's hands in his own much larger ones, begging her to please enlighten him as to the cause of this happiness. With a sniff, Georgiana lifted her tear-stained face and said, with a small smile, "I am in love."

Her brother was quite taken aback for some moments before warmly embracing the young woman. "This is happy news, my dear sister! I am pleased you have so quickly found a man who is worthy of your attentions."

Georgiana's smile faded as she said, "Oh, but you have not yet learned the identity of this man, and I have no doubt you will no longer have this opinion when you do." Surprised, Fitzwilliam waited for her to say more, but when Georgiana simply fixed her blue eyes on her lap and did not continue, he prompted her, asking for the man's name. Refusing to look at him, Georgiana murmured nearly inaudibly, "George Wickham."

Fitzwilliam froze. "I beg your pardon?"

Georgiana kept her gaze on her lap so she could not view the shock and anger she knew were visible on her brother's face. "I am in love with George Wickham. He shares my affections, and we- oh, I apologize profusely, Fitzwilliam- we have plans to elope tomorrow morning."

"Elope? With _Wickham_?" Her brother burst out angrily. "What is this folly? Georgiana, I have always believed you to possess better sense. Can you not see he is not partial to you, but merely seeks to gain your fortune of thirty thousand pounds as well as offend me? He is indifferent to you!"

Georgiana stood abruptly, horrified and angry with your brother. How dare he question Wickham's feelings and intentions? She had known perfectly well Fitzwilliam would be unhappy with the arrangement and not believe it suitable, but never had she imagined that he would attack their love and Wickham's character. "And I have always believed you, Fitzwilliam, to possess a manner more appropriate for a gentleman."

Fitzwilliam rose to his feet as well, gripping her hands tightly in his own. "Georgiana, I beg you to see reason. If he truly loved you, he would have made his sentiments known to me and done his best to secure my approval of your marriage. He would not have persuaded you to elope with him, keeping the nature of your relationship a secret until there was nothing I could do to prevent it! Tell me, sister, what was his reason for eloping? Did he impress upon you how I would never accept your partiality for one another, that I would do anything to prevent the union of my dear sister and the man she loves simply because I believe him to be of poor character?" Taking Georgiana's silence for agreement, he pressed on. "I would never have done so, Georgiana. Wickham knows this full well; if I were able to see that there was a true attachment to you, I would have supported his proposal wholeheartedly, no matter my opinion of him. As this is the case, he must have had reason to doubt I would believe his affections genuine. I maintain that he does not care for you, but only for the fortune with which he might live in comfort for all of his days and squander away every pound left to you by our father."

Georgiana's tears were renewed by her brother's words. "How can you say such things, Fitzwilliam! He loves me. I know he does."

"If that is the case, Georgiana, then he shall have no objections to the agreement that I will consent to your marriage- a proper one- with the understanding that he is to recieve not one pound of your inheritance."

She glared at Fitzwilliam. The nerve of him! "Of course, brother. I know he shall have no such objections."

"Excellent. I shall write to him at once."

"Miss Georgiana!" Mr. Wickham exclaimed as he opened his door to admit her. "I thought I was to call at Wellington in the evening."

"You were, but my dear brother has imposed on me the task of delivering a letter." She held out the envelope, which the man took with a puzzled expression as he allowed her to step around him into the sitting room. She took a seat in one of the simple, practical chairs- not at all like the ones at Pemberley and Wellington- and observed the object of her affections as he slit open the letter and began to read.

She quietly took in the strong line of his cheek bone against his skin, the dark smattering of hair along his jaw which he had not yet had the chance to shave, the warmth of his brown eyes as they flew across the words before him. Her heart swelled as she watched him- how she loved this man!- before she became aware something was very, very wrong.

"Mr. Wickham?" Georgiana said tentatively, noticing the angry frown that marred his handsome features.

"I must leave," he said shortly, crossing the room in three long strides and opening the wardrobe. He began throwing garments haphazardly into a trunk at the foot of it.

Georgiana hurried to his side, reaching out to place her hand on his arm. "I'll come with you."

"No." Wickham shrugged away from her touch and slammed the lid of the trunk down.

"I beg your pardon?" cried Georgiana, following him as he moved towards the door, dragging his trunk. "But- Mr. Wickham- Gretna Green-"

"Is no longer any concern of mine," Wickham said harshly. "Good day."

For the second time that day, Georgiana stood immobile in a doorway, watching as George Wickham hurried down the street away from her, leaving her behind and unknowingly taking her heart with him in the process.

"I'm terribly sorry, Georgiana."

She did not respond, keeping her gaze focused on the English Channel out her window and curled herself more firmly into the window seat.

"I wish... I wish I had been mistaken about his character."

Still she did not respond, her long blond hair shielding her tears from her brother's view.

"If you require anything..."

She nodded, silently pleading with Fitzwilliam to simply leave her to her thoughts. With a final squeeze of her shoulder, he left the room, and a small sob escaped her as she heard the door click softly shut.

She wished she could forget the hateful look on Wickham's face as he strode out the door, proving her brother's prediction to be true. She wished she could render herself out of love with the man who had broken her heart, the man who she had so firmly believed deserved to be trusted with it.

She wished not to feel.

When finally no more tears trailed down her cheeks, Georgiana slowly got up from her seat in the window and retrieved a handkerchief from the shelf. Dabbing gently at her eyes, she looked around the only room at Wellington that did not hold memories of Wickham- Mrs. Younge's. Fitzwilliam had removed the older woman from her duties when he became aware that she had been in league with Wickham, so the room was now unoccupied. Georgiana unconsciously moved towards the piano-forte and slid onto the bench, her fingers moving slowly over the keys. The sequence of random notes gradually became a tune she did not know and yet seemed to be so familiar with, and she played with more passion, pouring her heart into the song.

Wellington House was quiet as Georgiana Darcy told her story, as the sweet sound of harmony made way for heartbreaking dissonance and, eventually, the quiet sound of the sobs of a girl who had trusted too much.


End file.
